"Ay! ay! Captain!" said Hildegarde, cheerily. She handed in thegroceries which they had bought at the little store, half a mileaway, stepped lightly into the exact middle of the canoe, and sankwith one motion to her seat.

Roger nodded approvingly. "You are perfect in your entrances!" hesaid. "Some day I shall have to drill you in your exits, as I didthe girls."

"What do you mean?" asked Hilda. "Don't I get out properly?"

"Quite well enough for ordinary occasions. But I made the girlsput on their bathing-dresses, and then took them out and tippedthem over, so that they would know just what to do."

"Thank you kindly. As I have not my bathing-dress on to-day,please don't give me a lesson just now."

They paddled on in silence; the two had become fast friends sincethe day of Madge's visit, and had had many pleasant paddlestogether. Hildegarde looked about her, at peace with all theworld. Pollock's Cove was a thousand miles away, and there wasnothing to break the spirit of peace that brooded over the water.

Are you so sure, Hilda?

The girl's face was set toward the land; she saw the wooded islandwith its fringe of silver birches standing like sentinels to guardthe water's edge; she saw the lovely tangle of asters and golden-rod that gave it its name of Royal Island, and the strip of sandon which the waves were lapping gently; but she saw nothing of thewest behind her.

"What are you watching so earnestly, Captain?" she said presently."No boats, I hope?"

"No, no boats! we may have a shower by-and-bye; but I hope weshall get home in time."

It was a curious sky that Roger was watching. The day had beensmoky throughout, with ragged brown clouds hanging about thehorizon, and thunder muttering low in the distance. The smokyfringe might well come from the forest fires which were raging ina neighbouring district, Roger thought, and the thunder was anevery-day matter of hot weather; but now the clouds were beginningto thicken at one point, and their ragged edges turned to firmerroundings, and their hue was fast deepening to black. Rogerpaddled with strong, even strokes, and the canoe flew over thewater. The distant thunder-growl took on a more insistent voice,and every now and then came a long rolling note, which seemed topass on and over their heads.

"'Hear now how dey roll de great balls about,'" quoted Hildegarde."If we were in the Catskills, we might look out for Hendrik Hudsonand his men, after such a peal as that."

"I am afraid we may have to look out for ourselves!" said Roger,laughing. "I begin to feel rather doubtful about getting homebefore the storm, Miss Hilda."

"It is growing dark, isn't it?" said Hilda, innocently. "Will itbe much of a shower, do you think, Captain?"

"Well,--I think we may observe slight alterations in theatmospheric conditions. You are not afraid of a squall?"

"No, indeed! only tell me what I must do."

"Nothing but sit still--the hardest thing for some people to do;but I have noticed that you are not fidgety. Is your hat securelyfastened?"

"As securely as my head!"

"That is well. Stand by, then, and be ready, for it is comingpretty near."

Roger was used to every variety of weather, but he had been whollyunprepared for the velocity of the storm which was moving down thelake. The clouds, which, a moment before, it seemed, had beenmerely a thickening of the general smoky condition, were nowgathered into a heavy mass, dense blackness fringed with a mistygleam. It came sweeping over the water toward them, devouring thesunlight. A rushing sound was heard, that rose into a roar."Steady, now!" said Roger. "Steady, child! and don't befrightened. Here it comes!"

Next moment they were struck, beaten, blinded. For a momentHildegarde struggled for breath, so furious was the onset of thestorm; she crouched low in the canoe, but remained perfectlystill. The wind tore at them as if with frantic hands that soughttheir life; the water hissed under them, raced past them madly. Nowaves could rise under the raging gale, but black flaw after flawflew along the surface of the lake. The rain fell in torrents; thefalling streams were caught by the wind, tossed hither andthither, twisted into fantastic shapes of spray, sent flyingforward, forward with the storm.

No glimpse of land could be seen now; the night was around them,--night gone mad, and they helpless toys in its grasp. Helpless? No!for Roger's strong arm kept the tiny boat steady, as she drovebefore the wind. His face was streaming with rain, his fair hairtossed wildly over his brow, but his look was steadfast as ever,and now and then he glanced at Hildegarde and smiledencouragement. Bewildered at first, Hildegarde felt no fear, andpresently, seeing the quiet confidence of her companion, a wildexhilaration possessed her. She had read of this kind of thing; ithad been a dream, a picture in her mind always; now she waswrapped in the great storm, almost a part of it, borne along onits wings like the birds that beat their wings past her upon thegale. The lightning, which till now had shaken quivering lances offlame across the black water, a flash, then darkness, then again aflash, now became continuous, playing in lambent flames amid theblackness, lighting up the wild turmoil of wind and wave andcloud. The thunder rolled without pause,--overhead, around,beneath them. Crash! boom! crash! And all the while the waterhissed past them; all the while the wind buffeted and shook them,and the rain lashed their faces with stinging whips. The frailcanoe quivered like a living thing in mortal terror. What would bethe end?

The end came soon enough. Hildegarde was suddenly brought downfrom her airy castle of storm-wrapped bliss by hearing Roger'svoice, high-pitched to carry across the uproar, saying with calmemphasis, "Take off your shoes! We shall very likely go over whenwe round this point. If we do, strike out at once, and swim till Iget hold of you."

Hildegarde nodded, and pulled off her low shoes; then she tried tothink how it would feel to be flung into this mad water. The nextmoment the wind, which had lulled for an instant,--or had it onlyrecoiled to take a fresh spring?--the wind rushed out of thedarkness, and caught the canoe. It was a breathless struggle, managainst the powers of air and of water. Hilda saw the powerfularms braced like steel to meet the onset, saw the quiet face setlike marble, clenched teeth and frowning brow,--and saw no more,for here the canoe, having borne all that birch-bark could bear,capsized, and the girl found herself in the black water.

Down, down, down! Was she going to the bottom? She struck outblindly, as she had been told, trying to keep her thoughtstogether. They said that drowning was pleasant; but she did notwant to drown. Should she ever be able to breathe again? Her dressclung about her ankles, the water hummed and buzzed in her ears,in her nostrils; but still she swam bravely. Suddenly she felt astrong arm thrown round her, and in another moment her head wasout of water. Oh, the blessed air of heaven! how she drank it in,in deep, gasping breaths! Just to be alive, to breathe, washappiness enough. Roger was swimming strongly and steadily withone arm, holding her with the other. He caught the paddle in histeeth as it floated by, and at first Hildegarde could think ofnothing but how funny he looked, like a great fair-haired dogswimming about. He had righted the canoe, and now flung the paddleinto it, and turned to Hildegarde. "All right? Thank Heaven! Takehold by the bow, and I will tow you ashore."

"I can swim," said Hildegarde. "I am all right, truly. Can't Iswim on the other side and help her along, instead of hindering?"

"To be sure. Hurrah for you!"

Hilda grasped the canoe with her left hand and tried to swim withher right. She could do little, however, against the furiousbattling of wind and wave; and Captain Roger set his teeth, andwondered whether he was going to be beaten this time. "I won't!"he said aloud to the storm; and shook his head, lion-like, andbraced his strong shoulders, and swam on grimly. A few moments ofsilent, breathless fighting, the wind screeching, like Bedlamloose, the foam driving and hissing, the lightning blazing,incessant, maddening.

Could they reach the shore? Hildegarde asked herself. Was thisonly prolonging the agony, dragging this brave man to death withher, on her account? If he were not hampered with her, he wouldhave been safe on shore before this. If she were a girl in astory-book, she would loose her hold now, and sink silently; butshe was not a girl in a story-book. She was a very real HildaGrahame, and she did not want to sink. And how could our poorHilda know that the Merryweather obstinacy was roused, and thatRoger meant to save her and himself, and the canoe, too, if he hadto swim across the lake to do it? But now she heard him cry out,in a joyful tone: "Courage, little girl! here we are, all right!"

Next moment,--oh, joy! oh, wonder past belief! she felt the groundbeneath her feet. She was walking, standing upright on the good,solid, blessed earth. The canoe touched bottom, grazed, floatedagain, then grounded gently and was still.

"Shake yourself as well as you can," said Roger, "while I haul herup. So, now then! under this, and here we are!"

In the turn of a hand he hauled the canoe up on the sand, turnedit over, and drew Hildegarde beneath the shelter. A clump ofbushes broke the force of the wind, so they could breathe inpeace, without having to fight for every breath.

For a few minutes they sat in silence, panting, dripping, gazingat each other with dilated eyes. Their thoughts were utterlyirrelevant, as thoughts are apt to be after a great crisis. Rogerwas thinking that a pretty face looked much prettier wet than dry,and compared apples and flowers; Hildegarde wondered if SaintBernard dogs could swim. "Because Newfoundlands are black, youknow," she found herself saying aloud in an explanatory tone.

Hildegarde felt that she must either cry or laugh, so she laughed."If it were not for you, Captain, I should not be alive now. Ishould have gone down, down,--and the water was so black. Was itever anything but black in that place?" Her voice shook, but shepulled herself together instantly. "Why do you look troubled,Captain?" she asked. "The island is solid, isn't it?"

"You are so wet!" said Roger again, more ruefully than before.

"No wetter than you!" said Hilda, with a little laugh. Indeed,they were both streaming with water, and looked like a merman andmermaid very much out of their element.

"I? Oh, I never know whether I am wet or dry. But it is differentfor you; you will take cold, or--or something, won't you?"

"You are afraid I shall melt?" asked Hildegarde. She stooped downand gathered her skirt together, wringing little floods of waterfrom it. "No, I don't think I shall melt, really, Captain. Do Ilook as if I were melting?"

"You look--" began Roger, and stopped suddenly, and then wonderedwhy he stopped, and told himself he was an ass.

"Speaking of melting, reminds me," he said, laughing. He felt inhis pockets, and produced a small parcel. "I hope this is notmelted. No, it is all right. Have some chocolate, and let us makemerry on our desert island! See! the worst of the squall is over.It is lightening already; I can see the nearest island."

"Yes, and the water begins to show grey, instead of all black andwhite. But has this really been nothing more than a squall,Captain Roger?"

"Oh, if you like the dignities of meteorology, I think we mightvery properly call this a tornado."

"A tornado! I have been out in a tornado! And how splendid it allis!"

Roger laughed again. "Splendid, eh? So it is! Rather good fun,too, now we are on dry land."

"Glorious fun!" cried Hildegarde.

The water still raced past at their feet; the rain still poureddown, the thunder cracked and roared and bellowed, and thelightning blazed. But under the canoe it was really quite dry,considering; and the chocolate was excellent, and, on the whole,both Hildegarde and Roger thought well of tornadoes.

Meanwhile, there were some anxious faces at the camp. The stormhad broken there as suddenly as out on the lake. Bell and Gertrudewere out fishing, but fortunately near the shore, and they reachedhome just as the fury broke loose. Obadiah and Ferguson were blownin on the gale, turning handsprings as they came, and singing

"Oh, I'd give a sight For to be a kite When the wind is howly-wowling!"

Willy and Kitty were discovered, after a few minutes' anxioussearch, under the great apple-tree, in high glee because it wasraining apples, and the wind would mash them, and the lightningwould cook them, and there was no need of coming home to tea, withapple-sauce growing on every tree. Being hoisted on the shouldersof the twins, they changed their point of view, and turning intoArabs mounted on camels, capered joyously into the house, toescape the sand-storm of the desert. Mr. Merryweather, who wasspending a day or two in camp, came in from the boathouse, wherehe was tinkering boats as usual. The whole party sat down, wet anddishevelled, and drew breath as they looked at each other.

"Well, this is a visitation!" said Mr. Merryweather. "Why didn'tsome of you tell me what was going on?"

"None of us knew till we found our faces slapped and our hairpulled out," said Bell. "This is a surprise-party, I think, got upfor our special benefit."

"Pooh! pooh!" said her husband. "Roger knows how to take care ofhimself, and Hilda too. Boys, is the skiff well moored?"

The boys knew it was, but thought it would be well to see, anddisappeared by handsprings into the darkness. A double splash,followed by joyous shouts, announced their arrival on anddeparture from the wharf; and they shortly reappeared, drippingand gleeful.

"Boys, how can you!" exclaimed their mother. "This is the fifthtime you have been in to-day; besides, I have just tidied up thisroom. Go away with you, and drip in the tent."

"I wanted to see how deep the water was," said Gerald. "Veryimportant, you know, to take soundings in a storm."

"Still more important to quicken the circulation after a coldbath," said Mr. Merryweather, taking up a leather strap from thetable. The boys shrieked, and vanished through the window in afine harlequin act.

The lightning blazed incessantly, the wind howled and roared aboutthe camp, and the thunder pounded and smashed the clouds overhead.Bell and her mother drew closer together, and Kitty nestled downbetween them, and held a hand of each, "to keep herself safe."

"If the lightning strikes the camp, what shall we do?" askedWilly.

"I think we shall be very likely to keep still!" said his father,dryly.

"Miles, how can you?" said Mrs. Merryweather. "I wonder you canjoke, with those two children out in the canoe in this horror!"

"My dear, I would gladly weep, if I thought it would be of anyassistance to Roger; as it is, I rather fancy he is quite as welloff as we are, if not bet--"

Crack! The world turned to blue light, showing a ring of ghastlyfaces, looking terror at each other; then the sky fell, and allwas night.

"All speak who are unhurt!" said Mr. Merryweather's calm voice;and no one would have guessed the anguish of suspense in which hewaited for the reply. But it came in a chorus: "Miranda!" "Bell!""Gertrude!" "Will!" "Kitty!"

"Thank God!" said Miles Merryweather. "That was a close call.Boys, are you all right?" He stepped to the window as he spoke.

"All right, father!" For once the boys' voices sounded grave; asthe pall of darkness lifted, they entered, very pale, and holdingeach other tightly by the hand. "The big oak is struck!" theysaid. "Shivered into kindling-wood. We were just going to climbit, to look at the storm."

And sure enough, the two tall fellows sat down on the floor bytheir mother, and put their heads in her lap; and she patted thecurly heads, and talked to them soothingly, and forgot that theywere not still her little lads, whom she had rocked in her armstogether many and many a time.

"Your nerves are upset," said their father. "Always the case whena stroke comes so near as that. If you ever feel inclined to climba tree in a thunderstorm again, just mention it to me, and I willsee to you." He spoke lightly, but he took occasion to pass nearthe boys, and laid his hand on them, as if to make sure that theywere really there and safe, and rubbed their shoulders and gavethem a little affectionate slap.

For a while they sat quiet, for all were still quivering from theblow that had passed so near them. Gradually the fury of the stormabated; the lightning ceased to play continuously, and though eachseparate flash was still terribly vivid, yet the pauses betweengave strength and refreshment to the wearied eyes and nerves. Thegreat shocks of thunder rolled heavily, but still farther andfarther away. The storm was moving off across the lake, and onethought was in the hearts of all--the birch canoe. How was it withthose two, alone in that frail boat in the wild tempest? It seemedhours that they sat there, waiting and listening. At length--"Itis lighter now," said Mr. Merryweather. "Come, boys, let us godown to the wharf, and see what we can see. Hark! what was that?"

For a moment every heart stood still. Then Mrs. Merryweather beganto cry, and Bell and Gertrude and Kitty all fell into her arms andround her neck, and sobbed in chorus; but the boys started totheir feet with a wild "Hurrah!" and dashed out of the house,followed by their father and Willy. For now, clearer every momentand clearer, came ringing across the water the words of the SkyeBoat Song, sung by joyous voices of a youth and a maiden.

"Speed, bonny boat, like a bird on the wing, Onward, the sailors cry. Carry the lad that's born to be king Over the sea to Skye."

"But Roger is not a king!" said Gerald, with a queer little breakin his voice. "He is only a codger!"

CHAPTER XIV.

ROGER THE CODGER.

"Miranda!" said Roger.

"Yes, my dear brother!"

"Tum te-tiddle-de-tum, tum, tum, tum!"

"Yes, my dear brother."

"I--oh, I beg your pardon; that isn't what I meant to say, ofcourse. A--the moon is in perigee now, you know."

"Roger," said his sister-in-law, looking up from her sewing, "youknow there is no earthly use in saying that kind of thing to me.'Perigee' suggests nothing to me but periwig, and it is painful tothink of the moon in so unbecoming a head-gear. Are you quite surethat THAT was what you were going to say?"

"I shall be twenty-five next week," was the professor's nextremark. "I--a--I am getting to be quite an old fogy."

"Your teeth and digestion are still good," said his sister-in-law,with provoking composure; "and you are able--generally speaking--to get about without a stick."

"Pshaw!" said Roger. He laughed again, and threw out his powerfularms. He was lying at full length on the verandah, his handsomehead propped against one of the pillars, framed in a mass ofwoodbine and trumpet-vine. Mrs. Merryweather looked at him, andthought that with the exception of her Miles and her boys, she hadnever seen a finer-looking fellow. Every line of the lithe,elastic figure was instinct with power; the face, from the broadupright brow to the firm chin, was alight with thought andintelligence. But the blue eyes, usually so clear in their gravegaze, held a shadow to-day, a curious look of shyness, one mightalmost say shamefacedness. Mrs. Merryweather gazed at him, andthought her own thoughts, but she knew her husband's family, andheld her peace.

"That is a very lovely girl, Miranda!" was the Professor's nextremark.

"Meaning Gertrude--?" said this wicked woman, innocently.

"Oh,--I mean Hilda, of course! She is remarkably intelligent,don't you think so?"

Mrs. Merryweather assented warmly, and added praises of her own.Hildegarde's little ears would surely have burned if she couldhave heard the good lady. As for Roger, he listened with greatcomplacency.

"Yes!" he said. "She is sympathetic, and unselfish,--remarkablyso, it seems to me; and--and she takes an interest in things,--Imean real things, such, as girls usually care nothing about."

"Perigees, for example," said his sister-in-law.

"Well," said Roger, laughing, "yes, I suppose I do mean perigees,and that kind of thing. They are not in your line, Miranda, Iknow."

"Oh, but I respect them!" said Mrs. Merryweather. "There isnothing I respect more highly than a perigee, unless it be anapogee, which always sounds like the beginning of an incantation.So Hilda likes them, does she?"

"Of course," said Roger, slowly, skipping stones over the pondwith thoughtful accuracy; "she has never studied any of thesethings, but she has really an astonishing aptitude for them. Andher hand is so steady, and she has such a true eye."

"Was that why you kept her sitting on a rock, waving a towel, forthree mortal hours, yesterday morning?" asked his sister-in-law,dryly.

Roger turned scarlet.

"Was it so long?" he said. "I didn't know--I never noticed. I--wastaking observations, you know, and she seemed so--did she say shewas tired? Was I a brute? Of course I was!"

"Don't go off at a tangent, or whatever you call the thing!" saidMrs. Merryweather. "She said she had had a most delightfulmorning, and that waving a towel had been her favourite amusementfrom baby-hood."

Roger looked wistfully at his sister-in-law. They were genuinelyfond of each other, but they spoke different languages, and hesometimes found it difficult to follow her turns of speech. He wassilent for a few minutes, absorbed in calculating the curves ofhis stones, which really skimmed in an astonishing manner.

"I suppose," he said, presently, watching a particularlyadventurous pebble, "I suppose, Miranda, that I must seem--well--quite an old fellow, to such a young creature as that?"

Mrs. Merryweather had a quizzical reply on the tip of her tongue,but glancing at Roger's face, thought better of it, and merelysaid, "My dear boy, don't be absurd!"

"I don't mean to be absurd," said Roger, sitting upright, andforgetting his pebbles. "But--well, I am a kind of grandfather toall the children, you know, and she would naturally--eh? regard mein the same light. That--a--that seems perfectly reasonable,doesn't it?"

Mrs. Merryweather made no reply. Roger followed the direction ofher eyes, and saw Hildegarde and Gerald coming up from the wharf.Hildegarde had been drying her hair after the daily swim, and ithung in long locks over her shoulders; the tall boy was bendingover her, pleading earnestly for something.

"Just a little bit!" he said, as they came within hearing. "Oh, Isay, Miss Hilda, just a scrap. You have such lots, you never wouldmiss it. Just a little lock of hair!"

Roger Merryweather's face grew very grave. He did not move, buthis grasp tightened on the pebble in his hand.

"What do you want of it?" said downright Hilda, laughing andtossing her tawny mane. Mrs. Merryweather listened for thefaintest shade of coquetry in the girl's tone, found none, andlistened on, well content.

"What do I want of it?" cried Gerald. "What a question!--

"O Hilda, fair beyond compare! I'll make a garland of thy hair, Shall twine my heart forevermair, Until the day I dee!"

"Very proper!" said Hilda. "I am glad to find that you know yourballads. What else will you do with it, for example?"

"The Mater has a single hair of George Washington's, done up in agold snuffbox," cried the boy. "If you'll give me two, I will huntup a snuffbox. There's a fine old stingo in the Chemical Works whotakes snuff, and I will get his, and give him a tomato caninstead, and keep one hair in that."

"And the other?" Hilda persisted, taking the long tresses in herhand, and running them through her fingers in a tantalizingmanner,--"the other hair, Master Obadiah?"

"Oh, dear! what a persistent thing a girl is! I--must you reallyknow? Because you mightn't like it, if I told you the truth." Theingenuous youth here turned a somersault, and coming up on oneknee, remained in an attitude of supplication, clasping his handsimploringly. Hilda laughed, but still caressed her locks, unmoved.

"The other hair!" she said.

"Well, if you MUST know, I want to make a new kind of fly for thebass. They aren't biting at all, and your hair is just the colour,to a shade. There! that is the terewth. Do you mind?"

"Mind, you foolish boy? You might have had your fly made by thistime. Here, give me your knife!"

She stood still, and severed a long, fair tress, which she laid inGerald's hand.

"There! that will make a whole swarm of flies; and if there is anyleft over, you can theek your nest with it."

At this moment she looked up and saw the Professor sitting on theverandah, watching her. Her face lighted up with the brightestsmile, Roger thought, that he had ever seen, and she hastenedforward.

"Oh, Captain! I was afraid I was too late. Aren't you going totake observations this morning? And mayn't I go too? Here is mytowel, all ready."

Gerald clapped his hand to his face, with an exclamation of acutepain.

"My dear boy, what is the matter?" cried his mother and Hildegardein one breath.

"It is--nothing!" gasped the boy, sitting down on the edge of theverandah. "Where is the glue?"

"The glue!" repeated Hilda.

"Le Page's glue! My nose has become disjointed, and I would fainrepair it. I am suffering excruciating torments; but don't mindme. Go on your towelled and triumphant way, and leave the noselesswretch to pine alone!"

"And make his flies!" said Hilda. "You miserable boy, you reallytook me in. Good-by, dear madam; I will get Bell, and we willsurely be home in time for dinner this time. Won't we, Captain?"But the Captain did not commit himself.

"Mater," said Gerald, watching the two as they walked awaytogether, "do you think--"

"Not often!" said his mother. "It is a dangerous occupation."

"True!" said Gerald. "Well, if I mustn't think, where is Phil?"

CHAPTER XV.

A MORNING HOUR.

It is morning in the Lonely Cove. Before and around lies a broadstretch of glimmering water, dotted here and there with greatstumps, and lined about the shore with dead trees. Dams built inthe river beyond have raised the level of the lake, and hundredsof trees have died.

On every side is a network of gnarled and knotted roots. The blacklimbs grapple with each other; here one has dragged his neighbourover, and he lies with arms outstretched, writhen into antictwists and curves, as if he had died in torment; there, insingular contrast, are two friends,--oaks, were they once?--whohave fallen into one another's arms, and, dead, seem still toembrace and uphold each other tenderly.

Here again are stumps that gleam like gray silver, bare andpolished, worn by storms and winds. The shining water is clear,and one sees the bottom covered with particles of wood, chippedfrom the rotting trees, preserved by the water from further decay.

Through this silent water glides the Cheemaun, Hilda in the bow--where is Hilda so happy as in the birch canoe?--Roger paddling inthe stern. As the paddle dips, bubbles rise and burst, large andround. Behind, the dark woods curve in a lovely line; between woodand water, spread like a bed for the dead and dying trees, aswamp, bright with rushes and water-weed.

On the crest of a snow-white birch sits a great fish-hawk, withbent head and closed wings. What is the hunter dreaming of? Hoursof sport, most likely; long pauses on balanced wings, the arrowydownward sweep, the swift plunge, and the triumph of the upwardplunge, dripping and proud, bearing his prey aloft.

Some real or fancied noise disturbs the vision; he rises, spreadsthe wide, hollow wings, and flaps slowly away. Roused by hisflight, half a dozen crows burst suddenly into talk, and protestviolently against some deadly injury, then as suddenly fall silentagain.

Whirr! a kingfisher darts down with a quick splash, and back tohis bough with a fish in his beak. The canoe moves on, slowly,noiselessly; here the water is only three inches deep, but thesoft bottom yields as the strong young arms ply the paddle.

Hilda lifts her hand with a warning gesture, and they aremotionless once more. Look! not fifty yards away, a group ofpretty birds play and paddle in the shallow water. Sandpipers, arethey? They might be enchanted princesses, Hilda thinks, as they gomincing along, turning their heads now to this side, now to that,admiring themselves in the clear water. One of them finds a bit ofsucculent weed, and the others come running, for all the worldlike curious girls, ruffling their pretty feathers, cocking theirpretty heads; and they peck, and chatter, and peck again, whollyunconscious of the two monsters who are drifting nearer andnearer. Suddenly one of them catches sight of a moving shadow,hears some faint lapping of water against the side of the canoe,inaudible to ears less fine; and the three princesses are up andaway, fluttering, hopping, fairly flying at last, to hidethemselves in the deeps of the bog-land.

Neither of the two had spoken during all this time. Both felt themagic of the place so strong upon them that speech seemedprofanation. The flight of the little birds, however, loosened thespell. Hildegarde spoke, but softly, almost under her breath."Captain! Do you see the lizard? Look at him, on the log there!The greenness of him! soul of an emerald!"

"I was looking at the fish," said Roger.

"What for a fish?" Hilda leaned over the side, and looked into theclear shallow water. A bream was hovering over her wide, shallownest, fanning the water slowly with wide-spread wings. "Why doesshe do that?"

"To protect the eggs; they are there in the sand, and she iskeeping off all the water-people who like eggs for breakfast."

They drifted on again in silence: what was there good enough tosay in such a place?

Hildegarde pulled the transparent stems of jewel-weed, with theirglowing, pitcher-shaped blossoms, and twined them into a garland,which she hung over the bow of the canoe. "Dear Cheemaun!" shesaid. "She shall be decorated as Hiawatha's was. She deserves tobe hung with real jewels."

"Are there any more real than these?" said Roger. "And--you reallylike the Cheemaun, do you, Miss Hilda? and the place? I thoughtyou would like the place."

"Oh!" said Hilda, and her voice said enough. "How did you find it?How strange that I have never heard of it before! There is nothingso beautiful in the world, I am sure! Have the others been here?"

"N--no," answered Roger, slowly. "I don't think they have beenhere. I--I found it one morning, when I was shooting, two or threeyears ago; and I am afraid I have been greedy, and kept it tomyself."

"How good of you to bring me!" cried Hilda. "I like it all thebetter because no one--that is, because it is so lonely and still.You--you don't shoot now much, do you, Captain Roger?"

"No. I used to be very fond of it when I was a boy; but now, well,I would rather see them alive, don't you know?"

Hildegarde nodded her wise little head, and knew very well indeed,and thought the Captain was very right.

"I do not see how a sportsman can really love creatures," shesaid. "If you love them, you want them to live, as you say. Oh!oh, Captain Roger, please quickly stop! Look! What wonder isthis?"

Hilda's voice sank to a whisper, thrilled with excitement. There,a few yards away from them, ashen grey against the silver-grey ofa dead tree, was a great bird. To Hilda's excited fancy, it seemedthe spirit of the place, changed by some wizardry into bird form,crouching there amid the ruins of the forest where once it hadflitted and frolicked, a gauze-winged sprite.

Roger, less imaginative, and more skilled in wood-lore, saw agreat blue heron, sitting huddled together on a stump, its headdrawn in, its yellow eyes glaring wild with fright.

"It must be wounded!" he said softly. "Keep very still, and I willsee if we can come nearer."

Softly, slowly, the birch canoe stole through the water. Itscarcely seemed to move, yet every moment brought them nearer tothe wild creature of the woods. It made no attempt to fly, onlycrouched lower, and tried to flatten itself against the stump.

"Only one thing, I fear," said Roger, gently. "Its leg is broken,and we must not leave it in misery."

"You must kill it? Oh, it seems too pitiful! No, I am not going tobe silly, only I will turn my head away, please, Captain Roger."

Now she could have put her hand on the wounded bird, as it satmotionless, only the wide eyes of terror telling that it wasalive. The bow of the boat passed close against the log, and onbeyond. Hilda thought she should never forget the dumb agony ofthose eyes. They should not be here at all, she thought. It wasnot decent for human beings to thrust themselves into the sorrowsand mysteries of the woods and water. She could not--

Roger leaned forward, paddle in hand; a moment, and all was over.Something slid into the water, and there was a little plashingmurmur among the reeds; then stillness again.

The canoe began to move backward, and Hilda opened her eyes, whichhad been tightly closed. Neither of the two spoke until they werein open water again, and the swamp left behind.

"I am sorry!" said Roger then, almost apologetically. "I am sorrythat happened. The poor creature had been shot, and was badlywounded; it would only have lingered in pain."

"Oh yes, I know; I am so glad you were there, to help it out ofthe suffering."

"But now you will never want to come here again, I fear."

"Oh, but I shall!" cried Hilda. "I am not so silly as that, trulyI am not. I shall always think of this as the loveliest place Iknow; and--"

"Well, and--what?" asked Roger.

"Oh, nothing! Only--well, it is your own place," said Hildafrankly, "and I shall always think of you here, in the dearCheemaun, with the enchanted princesses--I mean the sandpipers--and the fish-hawk, and all the rest of it."

"If it is mine, I may do what I like with it, and I give it toyou. Will you have it?"

"Oh, we will share it together!" cried Hilda eagerly; and thenbethought herself, and blushed in her usual ridiculous way, andwondered if the back of her neck were blushing too. It was, andRoger saw the crimson mounting to the pretty ears and losingitself in the fair hair; and he wondered--and wondered again, andthen remembered that people sometimes blushed when they wereangry. He was a very, very stupid Roger, in some ways; but in amoment Hilda began to talk as cheerfully as possible, and to askabout all the birds they had seen, so Roger was relieved, and theypaddled home to breakfast in a very pleasant way.

CHAPTER XVI.

GOOD-BY.

The golden morning passed all too quickly; the mornings alwaysdid, out at camp. There was the merry dish-washing, the sweepingand setting to rights, and then all separated to their differenttasks,--fishing, boat-mending, cooking, photographing orsurveying, till the hour of noon brought them together again forthe swimming. Roger departed on his wheel, having business in thevillage.

The three girls sat down before a huge basket of mending, "Threeagainst Thebes," as Bell said, and plied their needles diligently.Hildegarde felt as if she were sewing in a dream; her fingersflew, for she could almost sew in her sleep, but her thoughts wereaway in the Lonely Cove, with the wild creatures and thestillness. She would like to go back there, she thought, with--well, she would like to go back there, and stay, long hours, tillthe spirit of the place had sunk deep into her heart. She had feltit, the touch of its hand in passing, the brushing of its robe,but that only showed her how little she knew, how infinitely morethere was to learn, to see, to love. She shut her eyes and triedto call back the scene, all grey and silver, glimmering in thefaint early light.

Was not this really life, the life of nature, of the woods andfields? Would not one grow better, purer, to stay always in thislovely wilderness, where every leaf had a voice, every stoneshowed forth its steadfast lesson, every morning and evening wasfull of joy and peace? Why should one ever go back to places wherepeople talked and gossiped and made formal calls?

Such new worlds, too, were opening before her! Not only this greatone of nature, but the sister world of science, which till now hadbeen only a name. She had always thought of "scientific people"much as she would of the inhabitants of Mars, never having beenthrown with any in this short life, which seemed to her so long,so full. As she said to her friend here, she had had many livesalready, all beautiful, joyful beyond measure; but this strangeworld, where they spoke a language of their own, where all the menwore spectacles and long beards, and all the women short hair andspectacles,--this world she had never thought even to peep into.And now--behold! the magic door had been opened by friendly hands;opened only a little way, it was true, but wide enough for her tosee at least beyond the threshold,--and it was fairy-land! As forthe long beards and the spectacles,--Hildegarde laughed toherself, a little soft, happy laugh.

Gerald, who was lying at her feet, looked up, and laughed too, forpure good-will.

"Good joke!" he said; "excellent joke! See here, Miss Hilda--"

"Do leave off that tiresome 'Miss,' Jerry! You know I told you to,ages ago."

"I know! but my manners are so superlative. Well, Hilda, then,just listen to this! I have been improving a little on one of yourold ballads--"

"Improving? sacrilegious wretch!"

"Oh, but listen! Why should a ballad be too old to be improved?This goes beautifully.

"Our lads are to the fishing gane, A-fishing with a line and float, And they hae grippet Hilda the Grahame, For stealing o' the Codger's boat."

"Both well, quite well!" said Roger, hastily. "I called at thehouse as I came by, and found Mrs. Grahame there, lookingextremely well, I thought."

"Mamma there!" cried Hilda. "Why--when did she come? Why did shenot write that she was coming? I ought to have been there to meether. You are sure you have nothing bad to tell me, Captain Roger?You looked so grave as you came up. I would rather know at once,please, if anything is wrong."

Roger smiled, and his honest eyes reassured the startled girl.

"You may believe me," he said, simply. "If I looked grave, it wasnot on your account, Miss Hilda, but on our own. A letter musthave gone astray, your mother thinks. You should have heard fromher several days ago; and--and she is expecting visitors to-morrow, and--well, if I must tell the truth, the carriage is here,and I am to drive you home as soon as you are ready."

A cry of dismay broke from the lips of the whole family; a cry sohearty, so full of distress, of affectionate concern, that itbrought the quick tears to Hilda's eyes. She smiled through thetears at Bell, who already had her in her arms, and declared shecould not let her go; while Will and Kitty pulled at her gown, andcried frantically that Hilda was theirs, and should never go away,never at all. Mrs. Merryweather smoothed her hair, and murmuredkind, understanding words in a low tone; and Gertrude sat down onthe ground and wept piteously.

"Oh," said Hilda to all these good friends, "you know it is notbecause I don't want to go to my blessed mother; of course you allknow that--"

"Of course we do, dear!" cried Bell and her mother, soothingly."Of course you want to go, and we ought to want you to go; but wedon't; and it has come so quickly, and all."

But his adaptation was checked by a look from his mother, and herelapsed into gloom. "It's a horrid, atrocious shame!" he said. "Ican't help it, and Hilda needn't speak to me again if she doesn'twant to; but I cannot tell a lie, and I am NOT glad that Mrs.Grahame has come home, and I never shall be."

"Dear Jerry!" said Hilda. "We have had such good times, haven'twe? And you will be coming back, you know, to town some day, and Ishall hear all about the merrymakings--"

But here her voice broke, and deeply ashamed of herself, shehurried into the house to put her things together. The kindMerryweathers went with her, and vied with each other in helpingher make her preparations. Since it must be, it should be ascheerfully done as possible; so Bell packed her trunk, andGertrude buttered bread with ardour, that Hilda might haveluncheon before she went; a good many tears fell into the butter,but Hilda said she did not mind that.

Soon, too soon, alas! all was ready; the little trunk packed andstrapped, and Hilda in jacket and hat--the first time in a monththat she had worn either--smiling as well as she could, andkissing and shaking hands, almost in silence.

Mr. Merryweather had just come up from the boathouse, and joinedhis regrets to the general chorus.

"And who is the captain of this black-sailed ship that carries ourlittle girl away from us?" he asked. "Are you going to drive herin, Gerald?"

"No, father," said Gerald, hastily. "I think Roger is going in."

"Yes," said Roger; "I am going in, Miles."

"Oh!" said Mr. Merryweather. "Is there anything special you wantto see to in town, Roger?"

"Why--no; I am going for--"

"Then, if it's all the same, suppose you let Phil drive Hilda in.I want your help this afternoon, very much, on the Keewaydin. Theboys aren't quite strong enough to tackle her. What do you say,Hilda? You would just as lief have Phil, I dare say, and it willbe a treat to him."

What could our poor dear Hilda say? What could she do but smileher assent, when she saw Phil's honest face radiant with pleasure?

Gerald, after looking round in vain for his mother and Bell, whohad gone into the house to get something, did indeed mutter thathe wanted Phil dreadfully, to do something of great importance, itdid not appear precisely what; but he was promptly set down by hisfather.

Roger Merryweather stood silent. The habit of giving way toothers, of letting the youngsters have all the pleasure possible,and taking the workaday parts of life for himself, was strong uponhim. And when had he refused his brother Miles anything?

Miles Merryweather nodded in satisfaction, and went into the houseto get his letters.

"How could I what?" asked her father. "Miranda, have you anyerrands for Phil to do?"

He looked at his wife, and opened his eyes wide; for the placidwoman was ruffling all over, like an angry partridge.

"Don't speak to me, Miles Merryweather!" she cried. "Don't dare tosay a word to me! You are a great stupid, stupid,--and Roger isanother! Why I ever married into such a family--"

She ruffled away out of the house; Bell hurried after her withouta word, only casting a reproachful glance at her father as shewent. Mr. Merryweather stood still in utter bewilderment.

"Are these people mad?" he said. "What on earth is the matter?Gerald, will you give these letters to Phil, and tell him--nowwhat is the matter with you, I should like to know?"

For Gerald's bright face was clouded over with unmistakable ill-humour,--a circumstance so amazing that one might well wonder. Heactually scowled at his father, whom he adored.

"Donki foolumque cano!" he said. "No disrespect to anybody, sir,but I am thinking of emigrating. This family is too much for me."

He stalked out again, leaving Mr. Merryweather more puzzled thanever.

"Decidedly, they are mad!" he murmured. "Thank goodness, there isone sensible head among all these feathertops! Oh, here you are,Roger! Give these letters to Phil, will you, please, and tell himnot to forget the mail."

Roger took the letters, and laughed. His cheek was slightlyflushed, and his eyes danced with something very unlike theirusual calm intelligence. "All right!" he said. "Give me theletters, Miles. They shall be mailed." He took the packet, andstarted to leave the room, but turned back for a moment, to layhis hand affectionately on his brother's shoulder. "I am a codger,Miles," he said, "but--do you know--I think you are a bit of acodger, too. It runs in the blood, I suppose. Good-by, old fellow!and let the Keewaydin wait until to-morrow, will you?"

He ran out. His brother, now speechless, followed him: saw him putPhil aside with a word and a smile; saw him lift Hildegardelightly into the wagon, and take his seat beside her; saw thegirl, her face bright as a flower, leaning forward to sayfarewell, and the other faces crowding round her, eager, loving,sorrowful; saw handkerchiefs and caps waving, and heard the criesof "Good-by, dear Hilda! Come again! Oh, come back to us soon!"

Then the woods closed in behind the carriage and it was gone.

Gerald looked long after it; then he advanced to the middle of thepiazza, and deliberately turned three back somersaults.

"Would anybody like to tread on the tail of my coat?" he said,joyously. "Phil, you are a double-barrelled, self-revolving idiot,but I love you. Join me, then, in three cheers for the Codger.Long may he wave! Now, then, hip, hip, hurrah!"

"Hurrah!" cried Phil, who had received enlightenment in some way,and was beaming like his brother.

"Hurrah!" cried Mrs. Merryweather and Bell in concert, fixing eyesof triumph on their husband and father.

"Hurrah it is, doubtless," said Mr. Merryweather, looking slightlynettled,--a rare thing in the most cheerful of men. "But MAY I askwhy my arrangements are changed without a word to me? I intendedthat Phil should--"

"Dear Miles!" said his wife. "I am sorry I called you names."

"DEAR papa!" said the Merryweathers in chorus; "we all love you SOmuch!"

"And were you ever young?" asked Mrs. Merryweather, no longerswelling, partridge-like, but taking her husband's arm with hersweetest smile.

"And did you ever see a girl you liked, Miles Merryweather? and ifyou ever had, would you have let another boy drive her in townwhile the breath was in you? Would you?"